


Hey stupid, I love you

by I_Require_Holy_Water



Series: Lord of the Flies One Shots [3]
Category: Lord of the Flies - William Golding
Genre: Background Jalph, Background Rogermon, Controlling Parent(s), Essentially Maurice doesn’t believe in love, First Kiss, It took me, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, so long, this is my longest oneshot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:27:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27054892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_Require_Holy_Water/pseuds/I_Require_Holy_Water
Summary: For Maurice, faces all molded together in his mind, forming one huge beast. The brunette’s only goal was to survive until spring.Make it to the end of the year and brave the beast that crawled behind his hazel eyes, waiting. In the sea of students, Maurice was trying his hardest not to drown.Maurice is stuck up and needs a little love.Stranger in the 7-11 is here to deliver.
Relationships: Jack Merridew/Ralph (Lord of the Flies), Maurice/Sam (Lord of the Flies), Roger/Simon (Lord of the Flies)
Series: Lord of the Flies One Shots [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2123289
Comments: 5
Kudos: 10





	Hey stupid, I love you

Some people saw everything. Some people scanned crowds for familiar faces, taking in the unknown ones as well. Some people noticed the unreadable expressions of strangers, and took mental note of the faces they belonged to. In his 17 years of life, Maurice Bellomo had never looked twice at a stranger. He’d never been dumbstruck by a certain girl’s charming smile or chocolate brown eyes. No, he hadn’t felt that tightening feeling all those desperate adults had sworn he’d feel. They told him tales of the one. Of their true love. Touches felt like lightning on skin, sending shivers down spines. Kisses made them feel as though they were falling from the sky, no fear of hitting solid Earth. Their faces had stood out. Those soulmates were like white crayon on black paper. 

But for Maurice, faces all molded together in his mind, forming one huge beast. The brunette’s only goal was to survive until spring. Make it to the end of the year and brave the beast that crawled behind his hazel eyes, waiting. In the sea of students, Maurice was trying his hardest not to drown. 

  
  
  


/ / /

  
  


Maurice spent all of his free time at work. It was considered unusual for a boy of his age, earning him furrowed brows and an onslaught of questions. None of which he could answer. Perhaps it was the seed planted in his mind that he’d see a perfect stranger walk through the heavy glass doors. Maybe it was the ever growing urge to look up from the chipped grey paint on the register and see a smiling face that lit up his dark world. 

The first day he worked the night shift, it was pouring down rain. The pitch black night made the small 7-11 convenience store seem eerie. Not that it wasn’t already straight out of a horror movie. Maurice’s town was small enough as it is, but the fact that they couldn’t afford to fix up chipped registers and squeaky floors from the 90s made the general atmosphere spine chilling. 

The only people running around the general part of a 7-11 past 10 pm were drunks, stoners, or desperate gangs of high schoolers attempting to grab enough instant coffee to last the finals. If Maurice had to guess, he’d say about 80% of the time they threw the money at him and ran off, hot coffee splashing from their cups onto the cracked tile floor. The only thing that was able to convince Maurice he wasn’t in some fucked up dream was the chill of the wind every time the door opened. 

As much as the brunette wanted to, he couldn’t do anything but stand at the register, pen hitting the counter in a steady rhythm. He had so many other things to be doing, Maurice couldn’t quite pinpoint why he thought the night shift was a good idea. Finals would be coming up in two weeks and the study guides were piling up. That was what happened when you chose to show off in primary and middle school. You got stuck with advanced classes and the sudden urge to drop out of school entirely. 

Maurice barely took note of the bell chime, glancing up when a soft voice hit his ears. It was 2 teenagers, neither of which he recognized. They more than likely went to his school, but didn’t stand out to him. Maurice can’t really blame them. He wouldn’t want to stand out if he had what appeared to be a clone of himself either. 

“Welcome to 7-11. Come check out when you’re ready.” The monotonous tone he used barely attracted the attention of the whispering boys. Maurice couldn’t stop his eyes from rolling and went back to tapping a slightly more complex rhythm with the blue pen. He let his eyes trail to where the two brothers stood. There were no defining traits about them. The same sandy blond hair decorated their heads, one having tucked the majority into a hat. The same lean frame, the same light dusting of acne across their skin. Nobody would look twice at them. Perhaps that was exactly what they wanted. 

The piercing ring of the store phone shakes Maurice to reality, the boy scrambles to pick it up before the buzz stops.

“Hullo. 7-11, what can…. Oh fuck off Roger.” A snicker meets Maurice’s ears as one of the only people he could consider a friend speaks. The strongest guess was that he was with Jack Merridew, the two were practically inseparable. The only reason Maurice even stepped foot near the two was because he wanted someone to pass time with. They were hardly even friends, good acquaintances at best. Roger had a tendency to call Maurice while he was at work, asking for the stupidest things. The raven haired boy and Jack found it hilarious when Maurice slammed the corded phone back into the wall from frustration. 

It turns out Roger wanted the answers to a physics study guide. Maurice politely tells him to go fuck himself before too roughly shoving the white phone back onto it’s given place on the worn brick walls. The two boys that were there before were nowhere to be seen. The brunette just scoffs and sends his attention back to the pen. It wouldn’t be the most outlandish thing to have two teenagers not pay. He was too lazy to rat them out anyways. 

A humming sound brought his eyes off of the cracked countertops and right into the eyes of what he assumed was the older twin. The blond smiles almost too sweetly at him before setting a singular pack of gum and a twix bar on the counter. It was the kind of gum Maurice would never pick for himself. The artificially flavored grape kind. This was the first time Maurice actually saw anybody pick it up. Instead of standing like an idiot, he rings up the two items, a green total flashing across the top of the register. 

“$5.99.” Maurice relays the number to the boy, watching as the blond digs in his pocket for money. Maurice swears he’s about to pull out change, but he hands the brunette a 10 dollar bill. Maurice cashes it in, setting the bills and coins into the other boy’s outstretched palm just as his brother runs up. 

“Have a nice day.” The mandatory words barely leave Maurice’s lips before the two rush to the doors, the one who checked out handing the candy bar to his brother. Maurice can’t quite place why, but some sort of primal urge makes him want to see them again.

  
  
  


/ / /

  
  


Maurice goes to the bus stop the next morning, hands shoved so far down in his jacket he’s dumbfounded the fabric hasn’t ripped apart. The chill bit at his exposed skin, most likely turning his nose red. But today, Maurice can barely feel the stinging cold. His mind has barely processed anything since last night. Something deep inside him won’t seem to let him forget those boys. He scoured the two yearbooks he owned for their names, coming up empty handed both times. He should’ve called the search off. He should’ve pushed them to the back of his mind. 

“Maur. You look fucking awful.” Maurice groans inwardly as Roger falls into step with him, hair hidden underneath a snow covered hood. The shorter boy’s fingers wrap around the strap of his backpack, hoisting it further up his shoulder, eyes never leaving the sidewalk ahead. Roger’s other hand was holding a monster, probably stolen from his older brother’s stash. Instead of acknowledging the boy’s words, Maurice just watches as he downs the rest of the energy drink. The brunette wets his lips, instantly regretting his decision as the cold wind freezes them. 

“There was a boy… Er, two of them.” Maurice came to the conclusion that if anyone knows them, it’s Roger. He’s extremely good at looking and figuring out things people don’t want others to know. It makes being his friend 5 times better than being his foe. Roger raises an eyebrow, crumpling up the aluminum can in his hand. Maurice swears he hears a chuckle pass through the boy’s pale lips. 

Roger finally looks at Maurice. “Let me guess. They came into 7-11 during the night shift. You were entranced and couldn’t stop thinking about one, or both. You now want me to tell you everything I know about them. You’re so easy, Maur.” Roger takes a small pause, piercing eyes turning back to the concrete beneath their feet. “But I didn’t say I wouldn’t do it. What do you know?”

Roger concludes the boys are named Sam and Eric. They moved to the town with their father in the 9th grade, a logical explanation as to why Maurice couldn’t find them in any old yearbooks. Their parents are divorced, their mother sending them here to live with their father after people grew suspicious of her activity. Their father now has full custody. 

“Do you know which one is which?” Maurice has to know. The names are so painfully basic to him, suiting the boys too well. They blended in so well, names that did the same were the only thing they could have. Yes, despite being boring, they were perfect. Maurice couldn’t imagine them with any other names. Roger purses his lips, pushing one earbud into his ear as the long walk to the stop finally comes to a close. “Not sure anyone really can tell.” 

  
  
  


/ / /

  
  


Jack arrives at the stop 5 minutes later, panting wildly. His air creates a puff in the sky, condensing against the bitter cold. His fingers are hidden as best as possible with fingerless gloves, a crumpled piece of paper and broken pencil clutched in his hands. Maurice watches as the boy throws himself on the freezing bench, limbs sprawled out in every direction. Maurice silently hands him his own study guide, the redhead flattening it out on his knee and frantically filling in answers. The good part about working a shift where nobody was around was that Maurice got plenty of time for schoolwork. 

“Maurice caught a fancy for one of the Pinch twins.” Roger smirks at Maurice, who flips him off and turns his body so he’s facing his less irritating friend, who was too busy scrawling in words to really process Roger’s words. The red haired boy just snorts, poking a hole in his paper, a string of colorful curses following the mistake. 

Maurice knows for a fact that he doesn’t fancy either twin. But even though this fact remains steady in the deepest parts of his brain, he pulls his jacket a little tighter around his arms. His leg jitters wildly as the small yellow speck further down the icy roads indicates the bus’s arrival. Jack slides him back his paper, Maurice knowing full well there was no way he finished all the fill in the blanks in that time. Maurice picks at the staple in the corner, cold metal pressing against his numbing fingers. The bus comes to a screeching stop in front of them, a dark cloud of smoke trailing from the tailpipe. Maurice follows his two friends on, quickly sliding earbuds into his ears and taking the furthest seat back. The chestnut haired boy tries his hardest to forget. 

  
  
  


/ / /

  
  


The truth Maurice comes to know is that when certain people are stuck on your mind, they’re much easier to spot in a crowd. You simply have to know who to look for and suddenly they’re everywhere you turn. The twins stand out like a beacon to him. He’s been seeing them everywhere, despite having absolutely no classes with them. He swears one of them is looking at him, but every time he gains enough confidence to glance over, both of their murky blue eyes are focused on something else. He still can’t tell which one is which, but it doesn’t really matter to him. It shouldn’t really matter to him. Their only interactions would ever be at that gas station convenience store. It’s not like he wants to see them anywhere. He doesn’t need to see slightly upturned noses and crinkly smiles every time he cracks a joke. Not that he’s ever seen them smile when something’s really funny. Or thought about it all that much. But it’s still there, in the back of his mind. For some reason he wants to know anything and everything about two boys he’s passed over 50 times before. 

He sees a twin again on his second day on night shift. Maurice is blindly sketching with the blue ballpoint pen when the bell above the door jingles, signifying a customer. It’s just one of them, the younger one most likely. He’s playing with a loose string on the sleeve of an oversized knit jumper. Maurice feels his heart jump to his throat as their eyes meet. He tries to clear it, but nothing happens. No noise is made and he stands there, locked in place as the blond slowly walks towards the back. This isn’t right. He shouldn’t be feeling this. Not to a boy. Not to this boy. He doesn’t even know which twin that is. The only trait he can even come close to knowing is that he likes Twix bars. That could mean literally anything about his personality. Maurice restrains himself from craning his neck just to catch a glimpse of the teenager in the rear end of the store. His fingers itch to call Roger. To do something instead of stand there awkwardly in a bright red button up with his name scratched onto a name tag. He ignores any urges and just waits. 

It feels like forever before the boy reappears. He doesn’t talk to Maurice, just sets a Twix bar and a bottle of processed lemonade on the counter. Why he’d want a cold drink in the beginning of December, Maurice can't quite tell. But the other boy's presence sends the brunette’s head reeling. He barely feels himself scan the items and hand them back. The boy raises an eyebrow, making clear intentions to avoid accidentally hitting Maurice’s hands. The blond ignores the stupid look Maurice is more than likely giving him and places a 10 dollar bill on the table. No words are spoken. No words need to be spoken. Maurice cashes in the money, giving the boy the correct amount back and watching as he turns and walks out. He can feel his heartbeat in his ears as the small figure of the boy who once was right in front of him disappears into the cold night. He picks up the phone from its place on the wall and dials Roger’s number.

  
  


Roger comes to the conclusion that he’s so desperately in love with one of the twins. Maurice adamantly denies this conclusion. The boy who eats Twix bars and drinks lemonade is _not_ going to be the first person he likes. He’s never taken second glances at any passing students, let alone liked anyone before. As much as he didn’t want to let Roger’s conclusions plague his mind and force him into the possible reality that yes, he was in love with this boy he knew nothing about, he lets the boy he considers some sort of friend, talk. Maurice fiddles with the phone cord as Roger takes a swig from what the brunette assumes to be his brother’s monster drink. 

“It’s entirely possible Maur. I know you’ve never liked anyone before but… You’ve never described girls in the way you describe those losers. You literally saw them once and could probably tell me the exact shape of their noses. You made me tell you everything I knew about them just to satisfy your craving of knowing more.” Maurice wants to laugh, anything to show that Roger didn’t hit it head on. Nothing comes out of his mouth as he stands there like a fool, mouth parted open.

“Rodge, I’m not in love with him. I only know his name, even then, I don’t know which one is which.” Roger chuckles, making a flickering noise with what Maurice assumes to be a lighter. The shorter boy had a scary addiction to playing with fire. 

Roger’s voice is crisp and clear when he finally speaks again. “Figure him out. One day you two are gonna talk.” Maurice would give anything to just ignore Roger. To brush his words off as lies and laugh in his face when he proves he’s not stupidly in love with a complete stranger. It’s absurd enough to even bring it up as a point. What does Roger know anyways? The most romantic thing he’s done is make a flamethrower out of hairspray and a lighter with Jack. He knows next to nothing about what Maurice is feeling. 

“I don’t love him. I don’t even like him. He’s just another stranger.” Maurice says the words more for himself than Roger. The boy on the other end lets out a soft breath of air into the phone, flicking the lighter that is probably sitting in between his fingers. 

“Yeah, okay. Jack says you tell yourself that when you imagine him jerking you off.” Maurice hangs up the phone immediately and concludes that he needs better friends than Roger Volkov and Jack Merridew.

  
  
  


/ / /

  
  


Maurice tries his hardest to avoid the twins from that point forward. The ever growing urges he already has and the forceful shove Roger’s words gave him make it almost impossible to get the one off of his mind. He wants to know every little detail about the boy. Whether he puts milk before cereal, his favorite book, the last song he listened to. Everything. Roger’s last statement haunts the corners of his mind, never appearing with a mental image. He doesn’t need that anyways. It’s quite literally the last thing he needs. It would only fuel the now ignited fire inside his body. 

Instead of forcing his attention away from the boy who lurks behind his eyes, he attempts to do it without being conscious of it. He busies himself with small things, like actually filling in exam study guides correctly. Trigonometry isn’t his best subject, but as long as his mind is preoccupied, Maurice is completely fine. The only thing he fears now is the night shift. He’s got it for the next couple of weeks leading up to Christmas break. If he sees that one boy again, he may as well explode on the spot.

“Earth to Maurice. You’re zoning out again.” Maurice flickers his eyes up at Jack, who doesn’t look too bothered but has a sense of worry about him. The boys are sitting on the bleachers, thankful for the free period the gym teachers gave them. Jack’s been scrawling in answers from Maurice’s paper while Roger looks up certain ones neither boy can answer. 

Maurice lets out a soft grunt and leans his head on the bleacher step behind him. “ ‘M fine.” Roger snorts, filling in an answer for Jack, who gives Maurice a look of what could possibly be remorse. It fades as quickly as it came though, Jack’s signature smirk breaking out on his face.

“You’re thinking about that twin again, aren’t you? I bet you want him to do all sorts of things to you.” Maurice ignores the sudden flush of his cheeks. He really wishes the people who he claims to be his friends would stop making these comments. When Roger asked him why he hung up, his only response had been explaining that he was uncomfortable. Roger just punched his arm a little too hard and said one day he’d learn how to accept his feelings. Except Maurice was certain he didn’t feel like that about the twin. Yet that little seed had been planted inside his mind, growing daily. The words kept echoing in his brain and as much as he wanted to get rid of them, they wouldn’t leave. The blond boy from the fucking 7-11 is all he thinks about anymore. And he knows he has Jack and Roger to thank for that.

He chooses to ignore Jack, closing his eyes against the bleachers. It doesn’t make for a good place to sleep but as long as he doesn’t have to hear their comments, Maurice counts it as a win. 

“I mean, Jack’s probably not wrong. Who’s saying you haven’t imagined his mouth-” Maurice lands a swift kick on Roger’s shin, causing the dark haired boy to send him an anger fueled glare to him. 

“Thought I told you not to say shit like that. It makes me fucking uncomfortable.” Maurice mumbles, a snicker emerging from Roger. He should’ve known they wouldn’t respect him. When had they ever? They worked for themselves and themselves only. Roger nudges Maurice’s arm with his hand, a devilish smirk playing on his lips. Maurice can hear the words the boy is about to say before he even does it.

“You shouldn’t fight the truth Maur.” But this isn’t the truth. This isn’t what Maurice wanted. The boy he barely knew was crawling under his skin, plaguing his mind in so many ways, but not once had he thought of him like that. And dear god, he hoped he never would.

  
  
  


/ / /

  
  


The twins come again that night, both of their noses tinged red from the biting cold. Maurice ignores them, focusing on filling out the final question on the extremely thick packet. He feels eyes trained on him, but doesn’t have the courage to look up. He scrawls in an incorrect answer, just happy to be done with the pages. He looks up to see the boy from yesterday, in the same oversized jumper. Maurice has to wonder if he ever washes that thing. His brother is saying something Maurice can't quite pick out, but the boy doesn’t seem to be too worried. He actually appears to be not listening at all. That reason is because his eyes are glued on Maurice, confusion hidden behind the blue orbs. Maurice swallows a little too roughly, trying to break the stare. But he’s stuck in some sort of trance. The boy makes no gesture to him. No smile. No wave. He just stares. Maurice holds his breath as the boy tilts his head slightly, almost like a puppy. A sharp word from his identical twin breaks their gaze, the blond replying and turning away from Maurice. The brunette inhales sharply, gasping for air. The cold air burns his lungs, but anything is better than what just happened. Maurice can’t even tell what just happened. His mind was wiped so clean, the only thing registering was the boy 15 feet away from him. 

The two have since disappeared into the back of the shop, leaving Maurice to try and catch his breath. The way the cheap store lights brought life to his muddy blue eyes made Maurice want to hold onto him and never let go. But these thoughts weren’t his. This boy was a stranger. One Maurice could never love because they weren’t ever going to happen.

“Um. Hello?” A soft voice made Maurice jump. The boy was there. At the register. Not even 5 feet away. Maurice tries his hardest to not reach his hand out and just touch the boy. He can’t even force the mandatory smile onto his face. He just stands there, staring at the blond in front of him, who looks worried now. Did he say something? Maurice couldn’t remember if he wanted to. The boy parts his lips to speak again, resting his hand on the glass countertop.

“You go to our school, right?” Maurice nods, eyes flickering up to see his brother standing against the wall, smiling genuinely at Maurice. It’s been so long since he’s seen someone do that, he forgot what it looked like. Maurice turns his attention back to the twin in front of him, trying not to stutter as he responds.

“Um. Yeah.” _Great going Maurice. You’re so fucking smooth._ “Did you need anything?” 

“Oh! No, not really. You just always seem so lonely and I wanted to talk to you.” The boy he’d been obsessing over for two days, the boy he’d had on his mind all the time, the boy who consumed his every waking hour, wanted to talk to him. Maurice wants to grab him and kiss him right then and there. The boy's brother calls to him, the words not registering in Maurice’s mind. They both leave, the slightly smaller one shooting him a worried look before he jogs up to his brother. Maurice knows he’ll regret it, but he calls Roger and asks to stay over. 

  
  
  
  


/ / /

  
  


Weeks pass and Maurice doesn’t see either twin. It’s the most painful 2 weeks the boy has ever been through, his mind never being able to concentrate on the tasks ahead of him. He eventually learns which twin is which from Jack, who learned it through his chem partner, some random kid named Simon. The younger twin is Sam. The twin Maurice can’t seem to drop. And it’s perfect. When he first figures it out, he spends hours relaying the rushed text message and letting the name slide over his tongue. He decides it’s the only name that fits the boy. Roger still teases him, but Jack eases up, eventually dragging Maurice to a coffee shop on the 2 week and 1 day mark, clearly frustrated. He plops the brunette down in a chair, sliding in across from him.

“Jesus fuck Maur. I know we’re friends but you’ve got a real issue with this Pinch kid.” Maurice can’t help it. He lets out a breath of air at Jack’s words. 

“Congratulations Merridew. You’re officially the last to know.” The redhead scoffs, rolling his eyes at Maurice’s sharp comment. The brunette smiles, leaning back in the metal chair the café provided. Despite it being almost 40 degrees outside, Jack had managed to drag Maurice to the open seating. Maurice can’t feel his nose, but the smell of the holidays that began radiating recently was worth it. The boy pushes the front legs of the chair off the ground, rocking back and forth. 

“You’re gonna fucking die doing that.” Maurice slams the front legs back down and tightly pulls his coat tighter around his biceps. It was a habit he’d picked up recently whenever Sam was mentioned. He couldn’t quite pinpoint why. “Anyways. I talked to Simon, my chemistry partner, and he mentioned something about you. I asked him how he knew who you were, and what do you know, Sam’s been talking about you.” Maurice feels his face flush significantly, and he could tell it wasn’t from the chill in the air. He barely notices the waitress place a cup of coffee in front of him, he barely notices the full smile on Jack’s face that he’s never seen before, he barely notices the bustling streets that were usually never this full. Sam knew him. Sam knew his name, despite Maurice never saying it to him. And oh God Maurice couldn’t fucking breathe. Jack doesn’t even utter a snide comment or inappropriate remark, his smile just widens. 

“You good?” Maurice mumbles in response, unable to think coherent thoughts. Jack’s worry displays on his face as he sips the tea he ordered. The brunette thought he felt happiness before. He thought he’d been in pure bliss. But nothing in the world could compare to the pounding feeling in his chest and the shaking of his hands. A warmth was spreading rapidly through his body, covering every inch of skin and making him shiver. Roger’s words hit him again, with the force of a bus now. He swallows roughly, trying to ignore the fact that he was now seeing things. Things he once swore he never wanted to see. 

“I…” 

“Have to go? Maur, you’re so readable. If Roger comes for you again, by the way, I’ll shut him up. I’m not stupid. He’s not stupid. He’s planted a seed in your mind and is waiting for the flower to blossom. Which…” Jack eyes Maurice up and down, causing the boy’s face to flame. “Appears to have worked. I’ll catch you later, Maurice.” The brunette nods and is suddenly extremely thankful his house isn’t too far away.

  
  


Maurice gets home and collapses against the door frame, hissing with some sort of pent up desire inside of him. He’s had this lust feeling described to him with the textbook definition, but feeling it was something else. The constant heat radiating from his body caused his shirt to stick to him with sweat. It was a blinding desire that he was feeling. The piercing thought of Sam just talking about him, following his every move, made his breathing get heavier. Maurice shrugs his coat off, and quickly tugs his flannel over his head in a desperate attempt to cool off. The pent up frustration from not seeing Sam’s face for 2 weeks mixed with the new knowledge Jack gave him sent his mind reeling. The door frame creaks as Maurice pushes his weight on it, hands balancing on the small slivers of wood between the shut front door and the open room. Maurice breathes in and out, trying to calm down. It doesn’t work. But dear lord, he needs it to. 

Maurice shoves his palms into the door frame. He doesn’t dare touch anything but the harsh wooden lines in the frame. If he gets anywhere close to his own body, he knows he would be gone. Jack has described this feeling so many times, earning an eye roll from Maurice. The building up of lust, the craving for another human is almost unbearable. It’s blinding, like a bright flash of white. His left palm twitches, begging to move. He just forces his hand back into place, gritting his teeth. 

  
  
  
  


/ / /

  
  


It takes Maurice 2 hours to have the world stop spinning. He doesn’t remember what happened from about 45 minutes into the second hour until the end of it. He vaguely processed removing his hand from the door frame, but everything else was pure white. He regains real consciousness on his bed, hair wet from what he assumes was a shower. His entire body feels heavy, and he groans when he forces himself up. His phone is buzzing with a text, the brunette picking it up and scanning the message. Jack. 

_Maurice if you didn’t do what I think you did, I’m suing you, you dickwad._

Maurice lets out a breath of air, quickly typing back a quick message consisting of the words _I can't remember, so sue me._ It earns him a read message from Jack, but no response. 

The sudden thought pierces his skull. _Fuck_ , he’s got work.

  
  
  


/ / /

  
  


Maurice shockingly isn’t late, but is indeed not on time. There’s no one there to chew him out though and for that he’s extremely thankful. _‘Hey Bellomo, why were you late today?’ ‘Oh my bad, I was busy doing something. Can’t remember what, but it was probably jerking off.’_

The store is silent, as it has been for the past 2 weeks. Nobody walks in those doors and Maurice is extremely relieved. He doesn’t want to see anyone right now. The situation would be too awkward. He just leans against the counter, forehead touching the cold area as he covers his face with his arms. 

The bell rings.

Maurice’s head jolts up, eyesight slightly blurred from the short amount of time he closed his eyes for. They adjust quickly, widening in fear when the blue eyes of Sam Pinch stare back at him. His brother isn’t in sight anywhere. Maurice’s heartbeat pounds in his ears, crawling up to his throat. Sam finally smiles at him, the corners of his mouth twisting up so perfectly Maurice is sure he can’t be human. Nobody can look like Sam does. Nobody should. It shouldn’t be legal for someone to do what Sam does to Maurice with just a smile. The thoughts from earlier crash into him and suddenly regret pangs through him. He violated this boy. He forced him into these mental scenarios for his own pleasure. Sam didn’t want that. Sam just wanted to be friends and Maurice violated him. He’d just assumed it had been reciprocated. Oh god, why didn’t he think. Tears brim in his eyes as Sam tilts his head, like he always does when confused. The blond’s eyes turn circular when Maurice wipes tears off of his face with his palm. He hates it when he cries. It’s never attractive when the instinct kicks in. It’s actually quite revolting.

“Maurice?” The voice is a whisper and the brunette looks up, vision blurry from his tears. It goes through his mind that this is a stupid thing to cry over. What’s even worse is that Sam _has_ to be there to witness it. The feelings that spin around in Maurice’s head don’t even comprehend in his brain. Sam is standing right in front of him, a cup in his hand. Maurice doesn’t remember seeing the cheap styrofoam before, but it’s all he can see now. The gentle curve of Sam’s hand, how delicately his fingers grip the cup. The tears on his cheeks dry. He can’t force his head up, so he keeps looking at the cup. Sam’s hands look soft, nimble fingers pressing into the material. It’s probably a hot drink, his hands are probably warm. Maurice finally looks up to see Sam staring at the cup too.

“What’s so interesting about a styrofoam cup I got from _this_ 7-11?” Maurice’s face flushes as Sam speaks. He wants to tell him it’s not really the cup. It never was. But he’s barely even friends with this boy. In fact, the only relationship they’ve got is a hopelessly powerful one sided crush. Maybe in another universe, they’re best friends. Maybe they’re inseparable. Maurice knows that that relationship isn’t ever possible in this world. But he still craves it so desperately. So instead, he lies.

“ ‘S an interesting cup. Most people don’t get the styrofoam ones.” Sam shoots him a confused look. “Not that styrofoam is bad. It’s just… most people settle for the paper ones.” The brunette winces at the response. There was never going to be a normal conversation with Sam. Maurice can tell. He can see it in the fucking dark.

Sam’s face scrunches, then the boy sets a 5 dollar bill on the counter. “For the cider.” He states, as if Maurice didn’t know. And it honestly hadn’t really comprehended to him. Maurice probably would let Sam steal anything because he would be so entranced by the boy. 

“We sell cider?” Sam laughs at the brunette’s words and Maurice is gone to the world. His breath catches in his throat as the soft ring of laughter echoes in his ear. A warm feeling spreads in his chest and he forgets completely about how this boy made him cry. Because the inexplicable happiness that erupted in his body was worth the tears he had spilt. Sam’s laughter dies down and Maurice desperately wants to burn that memory into his mind. He never wants to forget that feeling. But life presses on and that moment would one day fade. 

“You gonna-?” 

“Oh. Yeah.” Maurice gives Sam the exact change. $1.01. They really need to stop making things $3.99. He sets the bill on the counter as Sam reaches his hand out to take the penny from Maurice. He drops the coin in his outstretched palm, accidentally brushing their fingers. Sam’s breath catches and if he wasn’t listening, Maurice is sure he would’ve missed it. He can’t tell if he fucked up or if Sam wants to touch his hand again. He assumes the former when Sam hurries out without uttering another word, fleece coat still draped over his arm. 

Maurice wants to call Jack, knowing that if anyone could help him it’s the redhead. But he doesn’t. He just stands there, fingers still tingling from the quick brush of skin against skin. The brunette cradles his hand close to his chest, the scratchy fabric of the mandatory 7-11 shirt sending discomfort through his body. He wishes that this boy didn’t send him through so many highs and lows. His emotions may as well be a kindergarten swing set when he was around Sam. The erratic movements of adrenaline pumped children matched the way his heart beat when the blond was within 10 feet of Maurice. More accurately, it was a roller coaster. One Maurice would ride as many times as he could, just to feel something. 

  
  
  


/ / /

  
  
  


Maurice decides he wants to be friends with Sam. The closeness he craves so desperately, he can easily obtain. It’s within his reach, and he’s shoving it away for reasons he can’t begin to comprehend. He’s finally feeling the sparks people told him about. The ones he thought were fairy tales for so long. The ones he had seen portrayed by Disney with their ‘true love’s kiss’ bullshit. Those emotions were finally coursing through Maurice’s veins and he was pushing it away. He had to be scared. There was no other explanation for the sudden aversion to his own feelings. He didn’t have a choice, really. Maurice could either suffer for as long as it took for his stupid crush to disappear or he could confront the blond boy that lurked in his mind. Either one has the possibility of going to hell. Maurice hates how unpredictable Sam is. The brunette is perfectly capable of reading Jack and Roger. He can see their next moves. It’s all planned out in predictable patterns that Maurice feels comfortable with. But Sam is so unreadable. Maurice can’t tell if the boy wants to sucker punch his jaw or if Sam likes spending time with him. Maybe it’s for the better that Maurice has no clue what goes on in Sam’s head. Because no matter how much Maurice hopelessly crushes on him and hopes for something, anything, to spark up between them, his thoughts aren’t the blond’s. And Maurice is almost sure Sam doesn’t feel the same.

The December days begin to signal a joy in his small town that Maurice is positive only exists around the holidays. Jack and Roger somehow end up dragging Maurice out on a cold Saturday, Roger claiming it’ll be good for Maurice to go places other than his job. The brunette can think of 89 other things he’d rather do than walk around the tight knit shops, watching as little kids press their red noses up against frosted glass in an attempt to get a closer look at the wonders in a store. Like maybe his final study guide. But Jack convinces him with the promise of hot chocolate, something that always brought Maurice nostalgia. So he grabs his heavy jacket and the only hat thick enough to keep his ears warm and walks to town with the two people that he’s slowly begun to consider friends. 

There’s not much to do once they get there. Jack offers just walking around and getting out, because that was the whole point of being outside of their homes. A thin layer of frost covers the pavement, crunching with every step Maurice takes. The pine trees around the square have finally been decorated, blinding red lights strung up on each branch delicately, with what appeared to be a decorative eye. It’s a beautiful sight, one Maurice wishes would last year round. Between the clanging of store bells constantly ringing around and the soft shuffle of feet matched by hushed voices and soft laughs as lovers pick the best presents for their significant other, Maurice thinks that December may be his favorite month. It was the one time of year Roger wasn’t a huge pain in the arse as well, as the raven haired boy was generally more upbeat around this time.

“Jesus fuck it’s cold. Probably should’ve gotten the warm drinks first, huh?” Maurice snorts, watching as Roger rubs his palms together before stuffing them deeply into his pockets. The boy’s thin figure didn’t seem to be doing him any good, not to mention he was wearing his hoodie with no coat. Maurice wants to comment that he had it coming for him, but knowing Roger, Maurice would end up with a black eye and a couple of blooming bruises in places he didn’t know could bruise. It wouldn’t be the first time. It more than likely wouldn’t be the last either. That’s what Maurice got when he chose to become close to an eternal flame. 

Jack smirks at Roger, making a sharp turn into a certain shop. “C’mon. I’ll buy you something from Books A Million.” Roger’s eyes light up and Maurice is certain if they weren’t in a public place, the boy would maul Jack to the ground. The brunette has absolutely no clue why Roger of all people likes a book store such as Books A Million, but the pure look of joy on his friends face makes him follow the boy into the store like a lost puppy. 

Maurice ends up catching up to Jack first, falling into step with the redhead as Roger moves 5 feet ahead of them. Maurice can practically see the boy’s euphoria.

“Remind me again why Roger likes Books A Million so much?” Jack chuckles, raising an eyebrow at Maurice. The redhead’s face forms shock when it finally processes Maurice really doesn’t know.

“It’s his sister’s favorite store. He goes here every year to get her a gift. She lives with their dad in Florida, so Christmas is the one time he’s actually allowed to see her. Why do you think he’s always so happy around the holidays? Plus. I’m pretty sure this is the Books A Million Sam works at. Would’ve taken Rodge to Barnes and Noble if there wasn’t something in it for you too.” Maurice punches Jack’s arm lightly, silently hoping he didn’t go too hard. Jack usually punches back if you hit him hard enough. The redhead just smirks at Maurice, before facing ahead of them again. He opens his mouth, as if he’s going to confess something, but shuts it quickly. It happens 2 more times and Maurice wants to grab Jack’s shoulders and shake him until he can get the words out. He’s sure Jack can tell he’s now super curious, but something about the redhead’s body language says he’s not fucking with Maurice. He’s actually scared to get the sentence out of his mouth and into the open air. He’s scared to tell Maurice what the brunette can only assume to be a secret. 

On the fifth try, he gets it. “I also kind of need a gift for my boyfriend.” Maurice chokes on his spit. It’s just now hitting him he’s been so entranced with Sam, he didn’t even notice Jack was dating someone.

“You’re not gonna tell me who he is, are you?” Maurice smiles to Jack, who lets out an exasperated huff of air.

“You wouldn’t know anyways. You barely knew who Sam was until 3 weeks ago. Speaking of Sam, you've _got_ to figure out that whole situation.” Jack’s voice holds some sort of pent up impatience in it. Like he’s been waiting for Maurice to just talk to Sam. But even if he saw the blond in the store, which he definitely didn’t, he had been looking, Maurice is certain there would be no way in hell he’d gather up the courage to walk up to him and start a conversation. In a public place nonetheless. Maurice can barely look Sam in the eyes when they’re alone in a 30 year old 7-11, where the only person that could walk in on them was his brother. Add 20 people to the unsolvable equation and suddenly Maurice does everything he can do to hide in places he hopes Sam will never be. He really hates how much he thinks about a significant speck in the universe. Maurice really _hates_ how much this stupid, insignificant speck has changed his life. Most of all, Maurice hates that he can’t bring himself to believe that Sam doesn’t matter to him.

  
  


He ends up not seeing Sam in the store, and Maurice decides it’s the best idea for him to let himself get absorbed in his friends. His mind needs a mental break from the unholy amount of stress it’s been putting Maurice through. He actually manages to pry some information from Jack about the boy he’s dating, but doesn’t get enough for it to be significant. Regardless, it’s nice for him to bug the redhead instead of the other way around. Jack keeps making scrunched faces and flips Maurice off as he asks questions, in a desperate attempt to find out this mystery boy's identity. The brunette himself walks backwards, glancing over his shoulder so he doesn’t run into someone rushing out of a store with Christmas gifts held tightly in their arms. A small shop owner had already given him a venom filled scowl, muttering something under her breath about the idiocy of the wild youth. Maurice has to admit, calling three 17 year old boys who were just messing around with one another the wild youth was a big stretch. But he did suppose it fit them. In some sort of weird, bended way. Considering the most accelerating thing any of them had ever done was drive a car that they weren’t legally allowed to be in, Maurice never really considered them to be too out there. But maybe they were a little more reckless than they thought.

  
  


Maurice manages to convince Jack to buy him hot chocolate, as it was the only reason the brunette was tagging along. The promise of the nostalgic drink would be enough to bring Maurice out of any sort of hiding. The scalding milk chocolate would always bring him some sort of comfort, even if he somehow manages to burn every taste bud he has along the way. 

Jack has enough money to buy them all something, which is a rarity seeing as the redhead usually spends all his money on other things. Roger plops down on one of the soft armchairs, pulling his beaten up phone out of his pocket and shooting Maurice a sideways glance. His eyes tell the brunette that something is certainly off about him, but Maurice can’t quite place the entire intent behind the stare. The raven haired boy smiles evilly before gesturing Maurice over with a sloppy wave of his hand, the crinkled ends of his black flannel shaking wildly. Maurice grunts in response and follows the movement, watching as the boy in front of him curls up into the leather, phone balancing on his knees. 

“What’s wrong now?” Maurice can’t stop the words from being slightly exasperated, earning a small laugh from Roger, who scrolls down the screen on his phone. A text lights up on the top of the screen, but Maurice chooses to not snoop in Rogers personal messages. Plus the boy dismisses it before the brunette can even get a good look. 

“I’ve been talking to Simon-.”

“You’ve got Simon's number?” Maurice mentally takes note of the sudden redness that spreads across Roger’s face, as the raven haired boy makes a growling noise in the back of his throat. Maurice lets out a slightly scared chuckle before raising an eyebrow at Roger, egging him on. The brunette did more or less cut him off and he was curious to see what the boy had to say. But he was oddly silent now. Almost too silent. Roger had never been an obnoxiously loud type of person, but this wasn’t an “I don’t want to talk” silence. This was an “I’m scared of what you’ll say” silence. The brunette couldn’t remember a time when Roger Volkov was _scared_.

“Fuck. Sam’s nerves are rubbing off on me.” Roger runs his fingers through his coarse hair, looking up at Maurice. “Simon and I were talking and according to him, Sam wants to be friends with you. Something about not wanting to third wheel his friends but not wanting to be attached to his brother. You’re the only person he knows outside of those people.” Maurice’s heart drops. The things he would do to be Sam's friend. The people he would betray. But it would all be to no avail, because he’d always want more. He’d never be able to be just friends. And he knows that. He has everything he wants, dangling tantalizing out of reach. But the fruit isn’t satisfactory until it's forbidden. 

“I’m not quite sure ‘friends’ are what we should be.” Roger’s eyebrows shoot up in shock, his mouth forming a small ‘o’. It was utterly understandable. Maurice has been running after Sam for _weeks_ , chasing his own tail in order to see just a glimpse of blond hair in the halls. And now he was saying that he didn’t want to be friends with Sam. Truthfully, it wasn’t entirely a lie. Maurice wasn’t ready to get close to Sam. There was an unnervingly high chance he’d do something he’d regret later, and an even higher chance he wouldn’t regret it and the fire inside him would just burn brighter.

“It’s just not a good idea.” Maurice purses his lips, looking everywhere but at Roger. Even then, he can feel the piercing gaze of the boy on him. “Not a good idea for us, at the very least.”

  
  
  


/ / /

  
  


Maurice sees Sam later that day, in the shop. He enters with his brother, typing something in his phone. He looks frustrated, a small frown on his lips. His mouth parts slightly as he looks up to face his brother, eyes meeting with Maurice’s in the process. Maurice feels his face set aflame and smiles softly at the boy in some sort of sad attempt at a friendly gesture. Sam, in turn, quickly turns away, leaving Maurice no time to see his expression and rushes down an aisle. His brother just glances between his now long gone twin and Maurice, furrows his brow then spins on his heel and goes after his twin brother. 

Maurice knows he fucked up. Majorly, too. Between the expression on Eric’s face and Sam’s abrupt disappearance, he had to have done something wrong. But all he did was smile at the boy and unless he was allergic to basic human expressions, Maurice couldn’t quite pinpoint why he’d had that sort of reaction. 

Maurice chooses not to let it consume his thoughts and goes back to messing around on his phone. It’s an awful distraction, just watching the colored dots from the off brand game slide across his screen, but it’s enough to pass the time and temporarily rid his brain of any intrusive thoughts. His fingers move on their own, playing the familiar path of the game. It’s muscle memory, really. His eyes barely process his brightly colored avatar moving across the screen. Maurice decides it would have been so much easier to just pay for the on brand version. 

He looks up, just to check to make sure the twins haven’t made off with anything yet. They haven’t. Both boys are in the back of the shop, huddled together, whispering in each other’s ear. Maurice swears he sees Eric’s eyes flicker over to him, but it’s such a quick movement, the brunette really can’t be sure it even happened. Sam lets out an audible sigh, grabbing something off of the shelf and snapping as softly as possible at his brother. Eric just laughs and this time Maurice is _sure_ he looked at him. They must’ve been talking about him. There’s really no other explanation. Maurice doesn’t really want to know whether the conversation was in favor of him or blatantly against. 

Eric has nothing in hand when he walks up to the counter, except a small piece of paper, messily torn. Maurice doesn’t want to ask about it, as he’s slowly coming to terms with the fact that he will never understand either twin’s actions. There are numbers written on the sheet in sloppy handwriting, but it looks familiar. The numbers are set in a series that can only be a phone number, minus the dashes between each set. He wants to ask about it, but Eric catches him looking and quickly shoves the slip into his pocket. Maurice apologizes quickly, earning a small smile from the blond as he leans against the counter. Eric’s got to be waiting for his brother, the annoyance on his face giving the reason away. He seemed like a generally polite person around strangers, he had no reason not to be, but around Sam he turned into someone different. And Maurice has only noticed this shift because he looked for it.

“Tell Sam I’m waiting at the corner for him, yeah?” Maurice’s heart stops. Talk to Sam. Tell him Eric left them alone, in a store, where anything could happen. He was going to have to talk to Sam. Eric gave him an expectant look before sighing and walking out of the store. A small smirk played on the twin’s lips as he left, his eyes momentarily straying on Maurice before he lets the chill of air into the shop. The brunette swears there’s nothing worse than being stuck with Sam. Though, he can’t quite tell if there’s anything better.

The blond walks up to the counter with lemonade and a Twix bar. Maurice isn’t even shocked, he just looks down and tries his hardest to avoid eye contact. Instead, he chooses to focus on Sam’s hands. His fingers are intertwined together, the condensation from the plastic bottle causing water to drip down his fingers. The words he’s supposed to recite leave his brain entirely, his only point of focus being the boy in front of him. 

“Did Eric leave?” Maurice could listen to his voice all day. He knows he’d never get tired of hearing it. Sam could read The Great Gatsby and somehow make it interesting. The way words roll off his tongue with the slight Cockney accent slipping into his words, despite them being nowhere near England. The only reason Maurice could recognize the speech difference was because he’d spent an embarrassingly long time looking up different accents on the internet to figure it out. It wasn’t as simple as one would think to look up ‘hypnotic accents.’ and get a result.

Maurice could feel Sam’s gaze on him. The boy had asked something. What had he asked. Maurice couldn’t remember the question, mind going abnormally blank. 

“Maurice?” If he could, if it was socially acceptable, he’d reach across the counter and hold Sam. Never let go. Shelter him from things he’d most certainly already seen. Make sure he never has to see them again. Just keep Sam safe. 

“Can I accept your offer from earlier?” 

“What?” Sam’s eyes have some sort of hopefulness in them, like he knew exactly what Maurice was talking about, but wanted to hear him say the words. Maurice himself doesn’t know if he can say the question again. It was a random burst of courage, the adrenaline has since left his body entirely. Sam’s lips break out into a smile when there’s no response, almost teasing Maurice in a way. It makes the brunette want to crawl into the musty cabinets underneath the desk, but he keeps his cool and looks down at the lemonade on the countertop. It has a rim of water around the base, having leaked from the sudden change in temperature. It’s quite clearly fake lemonade, claiming to be only 4% fruit juice. It's definitely not good for him, but Sam somehow manages to consume Twix and the lemonade and still be slender, so perhaps he's extraordinarily healthy outside of the obvious candy bars. 

For the first time since Sam walked in, Maurice looks up and into his eyes. There’s an unmistakable sparkle in them, one that reads as if Sam really wants this. He wants Maurice to get to know him better. The boy’s eyes crinkle slightly when he smiles again. Maurice wants to take a photo just to preserve the expression, because he’s certain he would never get old of seeing it. Sam runs his fingers through his hair erratically, causing it to become even more sloppy. He still somehow pulls it off. 

“I’d love to talk to you about this later. But right now, I kinda need to know about my brother…” Sam trails off and looks outside, something catching his eye. Maurice follows his gaze to see Eric leaning up against a pole, talking to someone Maurice can’t quite make out. Not that he’d recognize them anyways. But Sam seems to and lets out a long breath of air before turning back to the brunette.

“How much do I owe you?” 

“Um.” _Fuck he didn’t check._ The registers blinking numbers relay the price to Maurice, saving him momentarily. “$5.99.” Sam smiles again, making Maurice’s heart jump in his throat. The blond hands Maurice the same amount of money he always does. A crumpled 10 dollar bill, the green color slightly faded. Maurice swears it’s intentional this time, like previously it was a test and Sam just wanted to have some results. He hands Maurice the bill instead of sliding it across the counter. The brunette hesitates for what feels like forever before gently taking the money from Sam, making sure he doesn’t touch his hand again. But the blond shifts his hand and their fingers gently brush, just like last time. Just like last time, Maurice feels sparks shoot through his body, warming him inside and out. Sam lightly jumps back, grabbing his things and shoving them in his coat pockets. Sam opens his mouth slightly before grabbing Maurice’s hand suddenly and the pen next to him. The boy can barely breathe as Sam scrawls something onto his hand, running the ink over the lines multiple times. When he’s finally done, the blond gently folds Maurice’s fingers over his palm. He’s written a series of numbers, dashes included. It’s a phone number. The digits are loopy, in rushed handwriting, but it’s perfect to Maurice. 

“That way you can text me when you want to talk.” And with those words, Sam leaves Maurice in the store, the silence wrapping around him like a warm blanket on a cold day. The feeling of Sam’s hand wrapped around his lingers on Maurice’s skin, setting every square inch of it aflame. Maurice stares at the numbers written with some sort of grace on his hand. The way Sam treated his hand like he was glass, broken by the softest of touches. Maurice cradles his hand close to his chest, breath getting heavier by the moment. If he doesn’t start thinking with a clear mind, Sam Pinch is going to be the death of him. 

  
  
  


/ / /

  
  


Maurice gets off of work early, as nobody enters the shop since Sam. He lays on his bed, staring up at the ceiling, hand lined up perfectly with his vision. He’s been tracing the numbers for the past 45 minutes, and probably knows them so well he could recite them in his sleep. He’s sure that he’ll never have the courage to dial the numbers anyways. Especially not now. Not late at night, in fear he’d wake Sam up. He’d come up with so many hypothetical situations where he’d have to pick up the phone and call Sam. Most of them involved rare bursts of confidence where he confessed to the blond. Where he just picked up his phone and just poured his heart out. But he’d never formatted a response. Sam was too unpredictable. Maurice wasn’t sure whether he’d turn him down and tear his heart in two, or whether he’d reciprocate the feelings. Maurice is certain Sam feels _something_ otherwise he wouldn’t have grabbed his hand like he did. Not with the sudden urgency he displayed. He wasn’t like that. He was always so calculated, doing what appeared to be thinking out every possible scenario before acting. But in the store, he appeared to have done what he did on a whim. 

Maurice decides that Sam wants to be his friend, but nothing more. There’s never going to be anything more. Sam seems like the outgoing type anyways, making friends with anyone who glances his way. Maurice has a feeling that if he paid attention earlier, he would’ve seen the blond, perhaps he would’ve become friends with him. He’s not sure that knowing Sam before now would’ve stopped the flood of feelings, but perhaps it would’ve dulled them. But Maurice will never know. What’s even worse is that he’s slightly content with that fact. 

  
  


Maurice doesn’t see Sam for 5 more days. The holidays have officially rubbed off on everyone, the 7-11 busier than normal, as people run out to grab last minute gallons of milk or a chocolate bar for a lover. The amount of people who buy Twix is shockingly low, as Maurice sees only one person outside of the obvious pick a bar up. It’s an older man, blond hair fading from grey. He’s rambling about his three sons, and how old they’ve gotten. Maurice just nods and plays along, bagging his other items swiftly. For a split second, Maurice thinks that this _could_ be Sam’s father. However, he swears Roger mentioned Sam and Eric were the only children in their family. 

Then the man mentions his lovely wife and Maurice’s heart deflates. He rings up the candy bar in silence, handing it back over to the man. Maurice half wishes nobody else bought those candy bars. Just so the rush of adrenaline wouldn’t kick in whenever the golden wrapper was scanned and paid for. 

“Thank you so much, son. I’m sure I’ll be back soon.” _Please don’t be_.

“Have a good day, sir.” With that, Maurice is alone again, with only his thoughts. The flickering red and green lights above him reflecting the colors onto his skin. It was splotchy colors, not quite mixing with the white of the overhead lights. The silence was almost overbearing, a single name pounding in his mind. It had started out as a steady heartbeat, muffled enough to be ignored. But now it was screaming, urging him to go further, to just pick up the phone and call. Maurice feels his hand pick up the chilled plastic of the phone, cord dangling between him and the wall. He inhales slowly before dialing the digits he’d come to memorize. The blue ink still stains his hand, as he’d traced over it so many times that it barely washed off. 

Maurice brought the phone to his ear, breath halting entirely. It rang 2 times, for what felt like forever. Maurice didn’t know what he was expecting. An answer at a decent time would be a miracle, let alone one at 10 pm. Maurice almost puts the phone back on the wall, face aflame with embarrassment when the ringing stops. His heart stops along with it.

“You do know I had to look up 7-11's phone number for this?” _Oh my god there’s a response. Oh my god there’s a response. Oh my god there’s a response. Speak idiot, speak._

“S-Sorry.” Maurice blurts out, face impossibly redder. He’s sure that if Sam were here, he would’ve revealed enough to never talk to the blond again. Not that he hasn’t already done that. Sam’s breath catches in his throat and noises that signify the boy is repositioning come through the phone. Maurice swallows roughly. He’s made no attempt at conversation despite being the one to call in the first place. The brunette wets his lips, closing his eyes as he speaks.

“So… Sorry for calling you so late.” Maurice winces at the awkwardness in his voice. 

“Maurice, seriously? I’m a teenager. I’m awake at 10 pm. Plus, it’s the holidays. My father’s really lenient around this time.” The brunette loosens significantly when he hears a breath of air that signifies held in laughter. Maurice breathes in and out roughly, shaking like a piece of paper in the wind. He isn’t quite sure why he thought this was a good idea. Sam makes no noise except the slight ruffling of cloth, a sharp intake of air coming from his end.

“What are you-?”

“I’m coming to the 7-11.” Maurice chokes. “I like face to face contact better. I’ll still stay on the line until I’m literally outside the store. It’s like a 10 minute walk anyways.” The phone gets set down and Maurice freezes entirely. He was going to see Sam. He’d barely talked to Sam, but now that he was, the boy wanted to see him. The phone gets picked back up, everything still quiet. Muffled voices come through the line, like Sam’s hand is over the speaker as he calls out to someone. A response is formatted and everything becomes clear again. Footsteps reach Maurice’s ear and he concludes Sam is walking out of the door.

“You still there?” Sam's voice is strained, and Maurice picks up on the creaking of a door closing.

“Um. Yeah. Yeah I’m still here.” _Like he’d leave._ “Are you allowed to come see me?” Sam laughs lightly and Maurice wants nothing more than to pick him up and hold him. The boy had no idea what he did to Maurice, and the brunette was scared that if he did, he’d run away as fast as he could. 

“Technically I’m not supposed to be allowed to go out without Eric. My dad doesn’t want us to be in any danger. But I told my dad I was going to go out to get something from the 7-11, so he let it slide.” 

“It’s not technically a lie, is it?” Maurice swallows thickly. “You are going to buy something, right?” 

“Nope. Don’t have any money on me.” And that’s it. Maurice is gone. Sam barely knew who he was and he had already lied to his family to get to see him. He starts playing with the chord on the wall, eyes darting outside the window for any sign of the boy, despite him being at least 5 minutes away. He was desperate enough to hope for it. It may have been more helpful if he was aware of what Sam was wearing, but asking the blond would be creepy enough for him to want to stay away from Maurice for forever. So he settled on waiting, as he’d been doing since the day he first laid eyes upon the boy. He could wait for a thousand lifetimes for Sam and it would still be worth it in the end.

“Is there… anybody there? As in, in the store with you.” Sam speaks so carefully Maurice swears there’s intent in his words that he can’t quite catch. His brown eyes flicker up then back down onto the counter he’s been focused on this whole time. His hands are shoved so far into his jean pockets, he can practically feel the circulation cutting off. But he’s not really aware of much outside of Sam’s voice right now. 

“Uh. No. There probably won’t be for a while.” Maurice’s heart beats uncontrollably. His hands ache because of how tightly he had the phone wire wrapped around his finger, but he can’t really feel it all that well. His body is almost numb, the only thing he’s even remotely aware of is the now warmed plastic of the cheap on-the-wall phone.

Sam doesn’t speak at first, but Maurice swears he’s smiling. And he can see it in his mind so perfectly. “I like talking to people without a crowd. Makes it easier to just let the words spill out, you know?” 

“I’m not exactly the _best_ talker, but I kinda get what you’re saying.” Sam laughs again, making Maurice grin like the fool he is. 

“I can tell. You stutter a lot. It’s a good trait, makes you seem less 2d and more… real? It’s hard to describe and I’m probably being really weird about it. I just… notice little things.” Sam mumbles the last part, and Maurice has to strain to catch it. But it’s enough to make his face flush, and glance back up at the window to see if the boy has shown up. There’s no sign of anyone. The lone street lamp flickers, making Maurice’s skin crawl. He shivers, hearing no noise from the other end of the call. The brunette doesn’t want to interrupt anything Sam’s doing, so he stays silent. He knows he’s proving the point that he isn’t that good at communication, but he never would be. He was always incredibly soft spoken and nobody had come close enough to pull him entirely out of his shell. He’d give Jack and Roger a couple more months before he felt at ease around them all the time, but as for now he had to think about what he said and bite his tongue whenever certain thoughts entered his brain. Words held so much power and Maurice had been an eye witness to the damage they could do. Growing up in a close knit town meant so many kids would stab each other in the back, and it had even gone so far that a kid moved away for good. Words could kill and Maurice didn’t want to be the reason they did.

So he stays silent. Just listens to the occasional huff of breath or words mumbled under breath. He can’t hear them, but it’s enough to know that Sam hasn’t hung up yet. Though he’s certain the blond thinks he has. Instead, he fiddles with papers just to let the boy know that he’s still there. The staple that sits in the corner suddenly has his undivided attention as he picks away at it, satisfied with the little sting it brings each time he presses his skin against it too roughly. The metal bends, eventually sticking straight up. It’s a dangerous game now, as Maurice avoids drawing blood when he attempts to set the piece back in place. He fails miserably and ends up cursing violently under his breath, a trait he’s now picked up from Jack, when the prick is a little too hard. There's a sharp inhale on the other end of the phone and Maurice suddenly remembers that Sam could still hear his every word. He opens his mouth to apologize, which he really should do until the end of time, but can’t seem to get the words out.

“Were you messing around with a staple?” Maurice has no idea how Sam knows that. 

“Yeah? How’d you know?”

“Lucky guess. And I’ve stabbed myself with enough staples to know the noise and the reaction. No real segway here, but look up.” Maurice does as told and the line goes dead. Maurice sees the boy, who looks exactly as he usually does. The oversized jumper hangs off of his slender figure, but this time there’s a loose scarf hanging from his neck. He’s got the same hat his brother once wore on his head, making his blond hair unruly. The fact that it’s dark, with only the low glow of a dying street lamp doesn’t help Maurice in the slightest. It just makes Sam’s hair have a halo effect and light up the contours of his face. He looks like an angel in the lowlight. Sam himself makes no movement, the only sign he’s real is the fact that his breath is heavy, probably from the walk. He just stares into the window and it takes every muscle in Maurice’s body to tear his gaze away and focus on putting the phone back on the wall. 

The bell on top of the glass door rings. Maurice keeps his eyes on the cash register.

The sound of uneven breathing fills his ears, signifying the closeness of the other boy. Maurice doesn’t move out of a mixture of fear and something else he can’t quite put his finger on.

“You look awful in red.” Maurice’s head snaps up, the brunette finally having complete control of his body again. Sam’s even prettier up close. His cheeks and nose are tinged red from the biting cold, making him look so alive. 

“Were you outside? Like waiting for me or just.. out there.” Maurice blinks slowly, a silent question as to why that was asked. “Your face. It’s really red. I assumed it was from the cold?” Maurice can only think _fuck me_.

“Uh. Yeah. I went outside for a bit just to…” _Lie. Lie quick._ “Tell some crackhead he needed to leave.” _Nice save, dumbass._ Sam smiles a lopsided grin, glancing back out of the huge window. He purses his lips, and absentmindedly chews on one, like he’s in deep thought. Maurice swallows roughly, eyes still trained on Sam’s soft jawline.

“He listened?” Sam looks at him again, murky blue eyes suddenly so much clearer than Maurice remembered. The red and green lights reflected off of his face, painting his skin in a way the hues had failed to do on Maurice. It’s mesmerizing, the way they dance on his slightly tanned skin, almost mocking Maurice. It’s like they’re showing him the things that they can touch that he’ll never be able to. The greens and reds laugh as they slide over Sam’s bare collarbones, over his hands, and cover every inch of visible skin. They’re reminding him of the things he’ll never have.

Sam’s eyes are glued to him, waiting for a response. Maurice can’t remember the question. He gives Sam a confused look, taking note of how the tinge on the boy’s cheeks enhances when the green lights flicker over them.

“You really like zoning out, don’t you? Half the time I can't tell if you’re watching me really closely or not even here with me.” _Isn’t it both?_ Maurice settles on nodding, biting the inside of his cheek until he tastes blood. It’s metallic and takes everything in his power not to wince as it coats his mouth. He inhales sharply, earning a look from Sam. The boy smiles mischievously once he’s got Maurice’s attention, and leans up against the counter. Maurice feels his face go hot as Sam looks up at him.

“Am I allowed to sit on the counter?” It’s less of a question and more of an invitation. Maurice can only manage a nod and Sam makes the cutest noise of victory, jumping up almost instantly. He crosses his legs and faces Maurice, the rubber edge of his sneakers stained with dirt and wet from the thin layer of snow on the ground. Sam pulls the hat off by the little puff at the end, ruffling his hair with his fingers. It’s a failed attempt to make the blond locks look nice, as it only messes it up even further. Not that Maurice is entirely complaining, the more chaotic look is better on him than the neat style his hair is usually in.

“Come here.” Sam’s voice is soft as Maurice takes cautious steps forwards, until he’s right at the edge of the counter. It’s the closest he’s ever been to Sam, possibly 6 inches between their faces. Maurice’s heartbeat is thick in his ears as Sam slides forwards, making the space between them even smaller. He looks up at Maurice’s head and pulls the hat on over it, breathing heavier than he usually does. Maurice swears he sees the boy’s face turn pink when he scoots back to admire his work. He bites his lip again, a habit Maurice has figured out he does when he’s thinking about something.

“It looks way better on you than it does on me, if I’m being honest. Makes your hair look less… messy and more Maurice-y.” The brunette laughs genuinely for the first time in Sam’s presence and the blond breaks out in a wide grin. He looks proud, almost. Like it was some sort of great feat to make Maurice laugh. It really wasn’t. He was just too scared to do it before.

“What is that supposed to mean? Are you telling me that how I usually wear my hair is less like me than the rarity of wearing a hat?” Sam nods like an excited puppy, fingertips pressing softly into the counter. Maurice’s body loosens slightly without the boy himself really realizing. He moves to beside Sam, leaning against the surface the boy was perched upon. He crosses his arms across his chest, and turns his head to look at Sam, who’s focused on the space where Maurice previously stood. The blond’s eyebrows are knit together as he narrows his eyes. He runs his tongue along his teeth and Maurice has to bite his lip to stop himself from shoving his lips on Sam’s. 

“I mean, you always look like Maurice. But with a hat you become like, Maurice squared. Maurice times two.” Sam smiles, eyebrows lifting as he turns to look at the boy. The look on his face makes the brunette make a mental note to wear hats more often. Just to see the cocky grin Sam is wearing, like he just said the best joke in the world. This boy was going to push Maurice off the edge and let him fall into the abyss. 

“That’s a shit eating grin, Mr. Pinch.” He doesn’t mean to cuss, it honestly just slips out. But the way Sam’s eyebrows raise and grin widens doesn’t make him regret it quite yet.

“Nasty mouth you got there. Real shame. I don’t associate with people who insult me, Mr. Bellomo. Guess I’m going to have to pack my things and leave.” Sam sticks out his lower lip in a fake pout. Maurice can’t tell if this is awful flirting, as in the worst kind where he is too oblivious to see that it’s reciprocated, or if this is how Sam treats all of his friendships. With teasing that couples could, and would, do. With the way Sam acts around Eric, it’s probably the latter. Plus, it’s a bold enough thought to assume Sam was interested in blokes, let alone Maurice. Maurice who he’d only really known for less than 24 hours. Maurice who could barely get a proper sentence out of his mouth to Sam. Maurice who had done the lesser version of stalking the boy, just to figure out some detail to satisfy the fire burning in his stomach. No, Sam didn’t like him. Regardless, Maurice teases him back. For the hell of it mostly, and because the words are just spilling off of his tongue.

“If you leave, who would keep me company at…” Maurice checks the time on the analog clock on the wall, quickly doing the math. “11:08 pm.” Sam’s eyes widen quickly, his mouth parting open as he pushes himself off the countertop.

“Shit.”

“And you make fun of me for cursing.” 

“Can it, Bellomo. I gotta get back. My father will have my head if I’m not back in 10 minutes. Walk me home?” Maurice is slightly taken aback by the offer. He has to close the store anyways, so nothing awful could come from going with Sam. Except that everything could. He could fuck up and fuck up badly. A solid excuse comes to mind and he blurts it out without really dwelling on it.

“I don’t know where you live. It might be in the opposite direction of my home.” Sam raises an eyebrow and scuffs the toe of his sneaker on the tile floor, head dropping. His eyes don’t meet Maurice’s when he speaks, gaze trained on his shoes. Almost as if he’s embarrassed by what he’s about to say.

“We live on the same street. Or close, at the very least. I’ve seen you walking around with your friends. Uh. Eric saw you, he pointed you guys out to me.” Sam’s fingers interlock and separate as quickly as possible and Maurice wants nothing more than to go with him right now. The way the blond is so cautious with his words, how he carefully picks out what to say. The hopeful sparkle in his eyes that dwindled when Maurice turned down his request. How he was trying his hardest to find something to get the brunette to go with him. And Maurice is really thinking about it. His mother would kill him for walking home this late with someone. She’d always been uptight about him going out with people who were practically strangers. But Sam wasn’t a stranger, and in all honesty, Maurice was sure Sam wouldn’t do anything to harm him. A bold assumption, but the boy seemed so vulnerable right now that if he had ill intentions with Maurice, it would be very cleverly disguised as almost… flustered.

“Okay.” Maurice takes a deep breath in. “Alright. I’ll walk you home.” The look on Sam’s face makes every second guess about going with him worth it. 

  
  
  


/ / /

  
  


The walk holds the same awkward conversation that eventually loosens up the longer they’re together. Maurice still has Sam’s hat on, and hasn’t really thought that maybe he should take it off and give it back. The air is bitter, stinging any exposed skin with its chill. Their breath is visible, clouds of it appearing whenever one of them laughs or sighs. The time passes quickly, too quickly for Maurice’s liking, and before they know it, they’re standing outside Sam’s front door. A light is on from a TV, the ending of a football game visible through a small window. It’s a decent sized house, nothing too extravagant. It looks like a place someone would call home with ease. Maurice catches the movement of a boy inside the house, most likely the other twin. Why he’s awake is beyond Maurice and he suddenly wonders if Eric is worried about Sam making it home on time.

“Well, back to a personal jail cell.” Sam jokes, staring up at a specific window on the second floor. A lamp is on, letting small knick knacks be seen. They’re barely visible, but Maurice catches a decent sized seashell and what could possibly be a snowglobe. 

“Is that your room?” Sam smirks and crosses his arms over his chest. There’s a challenging look in his eyes.

“You trying to spring me out? Maybe next time, Bellomo. I’d like you to at least meet Eric before you break me out of my house. He’d cover for me anyways.” Maurice grins idiotically, overjoyed with the fact that Sam implied there _would_ be a next time. He’d get to see the blond again, and he’d get the chance to sneak him out of his house. 

Sam gives him a sideways look, eyes raking up and down Maurice. The brunette feels his face go bright red. “The hat does look really good. Keep it. You’ll repay me with something, sometime.” And with that, Sam opens the burgundy door and steps inside, a small string of sound from the game playing meeting Maurice’s ears. The brunette stands there for a second, a newfound warmth spreading throughout his body. He can hear his heartbeat, which isn’t an utterly new feeling to him. It happens more often than not when he’s around Sam. But his body feels like it’s been warmed by the sun on a summer day. The wind barely has an effect on him. 

He doesn’t know how long he stands there, but it’s long enough for his fingers to go numb. He leaves as quickly as possible, the next time he’ll see Sam as the only thing on his mind.

  
  
  


/ / /

  
  


He sees Sam the very next day, a rare occurrence for them. It’s usually at least 3 days between their interactions, but there he was, in the rundown 7-11, too pretty to be in such a dirty store. He finally traded out the old jumper for a forest green one, and he looks so much better in green than Maurice would've ever thought. His eyes look greener than they did when he wore the old jumper, though the blue is still noticeable. He makes Maurice’s head reel for no reason.

Their eyes meet and he whispers something to Eric, who Maurice barely even noticed was here, before jogging over to the counter. Maurice smiles weakly before leaning forward on his elbows. It’s become a staring contest between the two, Maurice refusing to look away. Sam’s eyes challenge him and the blond leans forward slightly. Neither of them speak, but they're having a whole conversation with just their eyes. In his peripheral vision, Maurice sees Sam press his lips together into a thin line. Maurice smiles, the boy across from him wet his lips in a small movement. They just stare. It’s no longer challenging. Sam’s eyes soften and a small grin plays on his lips. Maurice bites his lip softly, not enough to bring pain.

Sam speaks first. “You’re not wearing red?” It comes off as more of a question than a statement. Almost like he’s shocked that Maurice ditched the disgusting uniform he was forced to wear. But it wasn’t entirely his decision.

“Boss said something about late shifts being able to wear their own clothing. And I've been told that red doesn’t look good on me.” Sam’s face goes red, something that even Maurice doesn’t miss. The brunette can tell it’s from embarrassment because Sam looks away and is suddenly very interested in the back of the register. He runs his fingers along it, the flush of his cheeks fading. He looks up at Maurice, a guilty look on his face as he gives Maurice a sheepish grin.

“Sorry about that. It was a bad conversation starter. But I tend to blurt things out without really thinking.” He doesn’t even skip a beat before continuing. “I didn’t really mean it. Red is a good color on you. Just. Not the best?? I’m making this so much worse, aren’t I?” Sam laughs, causing Maurice to do the same. The blond’s laugh is contagious. Maurice can’t quite tell if Sam realizes it yet. He can’t tell if Sam knows what he does, and can do, to those around him.

Sam glances over his shoulder quickly, nibbling on his lip again. He’s scanning the aisles when his eyes meet with Eric’s. Maurice glances over to the other twin, who gives him a knowing grin, ignoring his brother’s stare entirely. Maurice just raises an eyebrow and the boy winks in response. Maurice’s heart stops. He can feel the color draining from his face. He knows. Eric knows. Maurice can’t breathe. He’s got to have told Sam. They seem so close, it’s a wonder Maurice can even talk to the blond alone. But Sam’s face is filled with confusion as he looks back and forth between his brother, who’s now disappeared behind a shelf, and Maurice, who is probably ghostly pale. His mouth opens slightly, like he’s about to talk, but no words come. The only noise in the store now is Sam’s breathing, and Maurice highly doubts anyone but him can hear it. 

“D’you two know each other?” It’s asked in a disappointed tone. Like if Maurice did happen to know the other twin, it would crush Sam’s heart. The sadness in his voice ruins Maurice, and he feels the urge to fix his errors, even though he can’t really place what he could’ve done wrong. In a random burst of the need to comfort the blond in front of him, he gently sets his hand on Sam’s shoulder, making the boy flinch and look at Maurice, eyes wide. Maurice can’t bring his eyes to Sam’s and just lets the moment crash into him like an ocean wave does to a little kid. His jumper is abnormally soft, it takes everything in the brunette’s power to not stroke the fabric. He can feel the heat radiating off of Sam’s body, the boy way warmer than Maurice would’ve anticipated. Sam sighs, Maurice can feel it now, and taps Maurice’s jawline gently. The buzz that comes with Sam’s touch comes back and he feels himself gasp slightly, the noise getting caught in his throat. His eyes flicker over to Sam, who still has the shocked look on his face, but it’s dulled now. He blinks slowly, like he’s fighting some sort of urge and just tilts his head slightly to the side. Maurice presses his lips together roughly, feeling the ache and making sure this was all entirely real and not some weird dream. It matched ones he’d been having recently shockingly well.

“I’ve never spoken to Eric. You’re the only half of that whole that I’ve interacted with.” Sam smiles softly, closing his eyes. He lets out a breath of air, laughter lost somewhere in his throat.

“You can take your hand off me now.” Maurice does as he’s told, as quickly as possible, apologizing profusely. Sam just flutters his eyes open and stares at Maurice. The boy puts the hood of his flannel up to attempt to hide the growing blush on his face. 

“I’ll call you later. That’s a promise.” Sam winks before running out of the door and Maurice’s heart starts beating like crazy. It brings a nauseous feeling to his stomach, but one that he’s slowly beginning to welcome with open arms, because it means that he gets to see Sam. It’s becoming something he wants to feel instead of ignore completely. He swallows thickly, messing with the strings on his shirt. He’s breathing so heavily, one would swear Maurice had just run a marathon, or something of the sort. It feels weird. To have a single person do this to him. To tear down the walls he’d taken years to build up. To take what he believed and crush it in the palm of their hand. Because now, he wasn’t going to deny it. He was sick of convincing himself that this feeling was nothing and that he didn’t like Sam. The boy wasn’t just a speck in this ever growing universe. He had become more important. Maurice was hopelessly in love with Sam, and there was nothing he could do to try and go back.

  
  
  


/ / /

  
  


Sam did actually call later, but it wasn’t a conversation of great significance. They just discuss minor details about the other to try and widen their knowledge. Stupid things like _You seem like your favorite color is yellow_ or _You’re the type to like Instant Ramen over box Macaroni._ Even though there’s nothing that makes Maurice’s heart pick up speed, he remembers every little detail of what Sam tells him. He has a scar on his left shoulder from a biking accident, he used to go to the beach everyday despite hating sand, his favorite color is brown, but not a disgusting shade, more like warm chocolate. The list goes on. 

As it always does when he’s with Sam, time passes in the blink of an eye. One minute, he’s perched on a barstool in his kitchen, headphones a tangled mess, the next he’s lying upside down on his bed, the call time now reading 5 hours and 23 minutes, talking about where he thinks people go when they die. And Sam’s agreeing with him. 

“Do you believe in heaven and hell?”

“Nope.” Maurice pops the p, smiling into the phone as he readjusts so the blood doesn’t rush to his head. “If I did, I’d be going straight to hell.” He adds, as if it explains his disbelief. It really doesn’t. 

Maurice fiddles with the puff on the end of Sam’s hat as the boy talks. He’s rambling now, voice getting higher every time he talks about things he’s passionate about. Sam’s currently talking about an old webkinz account, going on and on about the Curio shop. It takes everything in Maurice not to burst into laughter when the blond gasps loudly and exclaims that he remembers his password, excitedly pressing the keys of his laptop. Maurice traces the zigzag pattern on the edge of the hat while Sam babbles on, the white lines standing out against the black. Maurice hasn’t worn the hat since Sam put it on his head. It’s been sitting on his nightstand, draped over his lamp shade. It smells of sunshine and artificial strawberries, which Maurice has since learned is the scent of Sam’s shampoo.

“Awh all my progress saved! The game’s all laggy though. It’s a shame. I really wanted to see Mr. Snuffles again.” Sam has a pout in his voice and it draws a tired laugh from Maurice, who drapes his arm over his eyes. He’s still smiling widely when a response comes through his earbuds.

“You sound tired. Y’know. Like the sexy morning growl.” Sam is obviously joking. Maurice can hear the playful tone in his voice. But the words alone send him into a flurry of hormones, the shock from the sentence enough to make Maurice almost tilt out of his chair. His stomach turns and suddenly he’s awake and acutely aware of every little detail around him, the rush of everything swarming his head at once. He gets dizzy from the rush of emotions, and is suddenly happy that he declined Sam’s offer to facetime. Maurice leans back, trying to stabilize himself again.

The world is still spinning when Sam keeps talking. His voice is hushed, like he’s afraid he messed up. “Of course, it’s something that happens to everyone. And it’s just called that. I didn’t… call you sexy. Not that you’re unattractive-.”

“You’re rambling again.” The words slip out of Maurice’s mouth and Sam stops halfway through his sentence. It’s silent. Unbearingly silent. He’s fucked up. Oh god, he’s fucked up so badly. Sam’s never been so quiet for this long. Usually there’s a TV of some sorts making noise in the background, but nothing can be heard, no matter how hard Maurice strains his ears. He wants to say something. To apologize. But Sam beats him to talking.

“Maurice… Are you gay?” Maurice hangs up.

  
  
  


/ / /

  
  


Maurice doesn’t talk to Sam for 3 more days. It’s December 24th now, and he wants nothing more than to reach out to Sam and just tell him everything. Let the words spill off of his tongue as he relays the last month to the boy, and just let him listen. Listen to Maurice’s desires with the soft eyes he always has when the brunette starts speaking in depth about himself. He has it all planned out in his head. Sam would take Maurice’s hand in his own, soft skin meeting slightly more calloused fingers. He’d stare at Maurice and slowly lean in and that’d be their first kiss. It would be exactly what he wanted and exactly what he needed. The touch of another human being, living, breathing, and bleeding. One too perfect for this cruel world. One that if he could, he’d shield from any horror.

But Maurice had successfully messed that all up. He had half expected that Sam would be with him right now, if not in this moment, then earlier today, spending the last day before a holiday with him. The snow would fall down around them and Maurice would give the blond his hat back, and he’d flush before insisting Maurice kept it. 

A sharp ring of the phone breaks him from his daydream. Sam’s contact name flashes across the screen. Maurice almost doesn’t answer, just lets it ring two times before shakily bringing the phone to his ear. Sam’s been crying. He can tell from the broken sniffles and scratchy voice he speaks in. Sam’s also pissed. 

“Car. Break me out. Now. Take me anywhere. As long as it isn’t here.” And Maurice is up in an instant, instructing Sam to stay on the line as he grabs a flannel that he threw on the floor instead of folding. Sam listens carefully, not speaking since his first statement. He lets out little sobs that tear Maurice apart inside and he regrets leaving Sam alone. The blond was crumbling beneath himself, for reasons Maurice doesn’t understand. He doesn’t need to. Sam needs him to take him somewhere and he’s going to do it. He steps on the gas, ignoring the red octagon in his peripheral. Nobody’s out to catch him anyways. 

Maurice hears a string of curses, awful words coming from such a pretty mouth. The phrases drive him over the edge and he comes to a painful stop outside of Sam’s house, quickly hanging up the phone. He shoves the mobile device in his pocket and slams the metal door shut, hoping it’s enough to signal that he’s here to Sam, but be brushed off as neighbors by anyone else is the house. Nothing stirs inside except a light. A light is turned off in the window Maurice remembers is Sam’s. The glass is thrown open and the brunette gets a good look at Sam. 

He looks broken. His nose is red from crying too hard, his eyes puffy for the same reason. Old tear tracks line his cheeks and he looks hopelessly lost for someone who’s supposed to be at home. He’s shaking like a leaf in a windstorm, biting his lip with a force Maurice has never seen him exhibit. He’s still the most gorgeous thing the brunette has laid eyes on, even in his distraught state.

“I’ll climb down. I figured out how a while back. An old friend sprung me from here once too.” Maurice nods, praying that the blond won’t fall. He doesn’t. He makes it out of the window, shutting it as silently as possible from the outside and climbs down the paneling on the side. His foot slips once and Maurice lunges forward from instinct, but stops once Sam regains his balance. He’s incredibly careful from then on, making it to the soft ground with a muffle thud. He smiles at Maurice before gently stepping forwards and towards the beat up car. Sam glances back up at the window. Then to Maurice’s face. He takes another step forward. And another. It’s slow, almost as if Sam’s never snuck out before. But Maurice is patient, watching the boy with a newfound curiosity.

“I lied.” Sam purses his lips. “I’ve never snuck out. You’re the first person to have ever listened to me when I said I wanted to leave. I’ve told other people to pick me up but they ignored me.” Sam swallows, his expression unreadable, as the only light is coming from the low glow of the moon. Maurice glances down and gently inches closer to Sam. He tilts the boy’s chin up, ignoring the hum radiating through his body as their bare skin presses against each others. He runs his thumb along an old tear track, averting his eyes from Sam’s. He mumbles the next words, just loud enough for the blond, and only the blond, to hear.

“I know where to take you.” He brushes a loose strand of hair behind Sam’s ear, not ignoring how the blond’s body shudders under Maurice’s touch. He leans into Maurice’s palm, eyes fluttering shut. Sam’s lips part slightly and the weight of the scenario hits the brunette all at once. He’s cradling Sam’s cheek, rubbing his thumb along the boy's cheekbone. They’re moments away from kissing, it’s so painfully obvious to Maurice _now_. He moves closer just by an inch. Sam’s breath hitches. The heat of Sam’s body radiates against Maurice, warming him to the core. The blond’s hand clutches the fabric around Maurice’s bicep. 2 inches. 1 inch. The brunette’s lips ghost over Sam’s. A door is slammed open, scaring them apart. Any warmth that Maurice once held is ripped from him painfully, in a way that hurts worse than losing the physical warmth.

“Sam? What are you doing outside?” Sam’s eyes widen with fear, hands shaking again. Maurice grabs them both, steadying them and giving him silent signals. It’s like the staring contest they had what felt like a hundred years ago. But this time, there’s an obstacle between Sam’s freedom and them. Maurice thinks about pressing their lips together and then just making a run for it, alone. But the terrified look in Sam’s eyes grounds him. He can’t leave this boy alone. Not since he promised him he’d take him far away. 

Maurice runs. But he takes Sam with him. 

The blond is in the passenger seat, warming up his hands on the heaters when Maurice steps on the gas and drives away as fast as he can. He slows down to the legal pace when the silhouette of Sam’s father disappears in the rearview mirror. He sighs, unclenching his knuckles on the wheel. The blond beside him is still desperately trying to warm his fingers against the hot stream of air from the car. Neither of them speak as Maurice removes a hand from the wheel and covers Sam’s with it. He keeps his eyes on the road. A crash would be the worst thing to possibly ever happen to them at this moment, so it’s the last thing Maurice wants to be the cause of. Sam sets Maurice’s hand on the glovebox, covering it with his own. The brunette’s daydreams were right. Sam’s hands are incredibly soft. 

“Why’d you take me with you?” The blond’s voice breaks halfway through the sentence, causing him to have to restart it. Maurice shakes his head.

“I swore I’d get you out of there. Take you to somewhere else. I couldn’t leave you alone.” It’s a whisper, but perfectly audible in the silent car. Sam leans against the window, fingers sliding in Maurice’s. The brunette doesn’t want to tell the other, but if he makes another gesture like this one, he will on point melt into Sam’s touch and more likely than not, crash the car. The blond stares at the blurs moving by, fingers wrapping into Maurice’s palm. 

“Where _are_ you taking me?” 

  
  
  


/ / /

  
  


Maurice pulls into the parking lot of a McDonald’s, 45 minutes after they left Sam’s house. It’s one of the least romantic things Maurice can think of, bringing the boy to a fast food restaurant that’s been standing since the beginning of time at 1 in the morning, but Sam looks at the glow of the lights and seems genuinely happy. That’s enough for Maurice to be proud of thinking to take him here. Sam’s soft hand leaves from over Maurice’s, the loss of warmth bringing a frown to the brunette’s face. He can still feel Sam’s touch, despite the boy now grabbing the handle of the door, pulling the small metal piece in, and nudging it open with his foot. The cold air meets their faces, ripping a gasp from Sam’s lips. He shuts the door quicker than Maurice thought was humanly possible, hands covering his face instantaneously. Maurice smiles at the reaction the blond had, shrugging his flannel off. Clearly he wasn’t used to the bone chilling cold, or just abnormally cold all the time, the blast of air pushing him over the edge. Maurice throws the fabric he’d since pulled off over Sam’s shoulders, the fur lining hopefully enough to warm the smaller boy. Sam just stares, eyes wide with hope and what could possible be love. He slides his arms through and relaxes back into the seat. Maurice desperately wants to hold him. Warm him up with his own body heat. But he doesn’t. He stays rooted in the plush leather of the car, watching Sam’s every move with an undying curiosity. 

Maurice is the first to make a move. He opens the door and climbs out, trying to shove the bitter air aside. He crosses from the back of the car, and opens the door for Sam, instinctively wrapping his arm around the boy and pulling him close as they walk. It’s a sad attempt to keep him warm, but it works well enough because the boy is no longer shivering. He’s curling himself as best he can into Maurice, face buried in his shoulder. The brunette can feel his uneven breathing, wanting nothing more than to just stay in place, holding Sam so close to him their bodies are practically morphed together. But he can’t, and the only way to ensure that the blond will be warm is to enter the store. 

It’s heated inside, enough for Sam to detach himself from Maurice, but still rub his palms together and pull the sleeves of the flannel over his hands. Neither of them have spoken a word, their actions being loud enough for both of them. Maurice is letting his love bleed with the small brushes of skin against skin. He only hopes Sam can feel it too.

They end up sitting across from each other at a table, Maurice coughing up enough money to buy a large fry. Sam’s foot is running up and down Maurice’s calf, making him shiver. The blond himself doesn’t seem too at ease, nibbling on the end of a fry, eyes trained on Maurice. The question is lingering between them. It has been since they almost kissed at Sam’s house. Does the other really want this as much as they thought?

It’s extremely surreal, the whole scenario. Maurice wants to talk. To say something to the boy sitting 5 feet away. But no words come.

”Maurice…” It’s a whisper, voice thick and filled with some sort of want. Maurice is shaking again, like he always does whenever Sam is near. The blond notices, his foot sliding away from Maurice’s leg and tucking behind the cheap metal chair. It makes a screeching sound when he pushes back, causing Maurice to wince, screwing his eyes shut. Sam apologizes under his breath, fists clenching, having a similar reaction to Maurice’s. 

“You know… I should be getting home.” Sam glances at his phone, then to Maurice, who feels himself deflate. “Except. There’s something else I have to do. Drive me there?” Maurice smiles softly, nodding. He’d trade anything for just a little longer with the blond. He’d already given up so much, that he was certain now he had nothing else to lose. Maybe Sam would gently rest his hand on Maurice’s, like he’d been doing before. Maybe he’d do more. Maybe he’d take a step into forbidden territory. Maurice’s stomach flips at just the thought of it. The thought of the burning sensation Sam always brought with his soft touches, magnifying when their lips met. How sparks would fly and the location would melt around them. Nothing would be more important at that moment. Nothing would even compare. And Maurice wouldn't be able to shake the memory kiss for weeks, _months._

He walks Sam back to the car, holding him at arm's length. Sam makes a head motion that catches Maurice’s gaze. The boy sighs and opens the door to the backseat of the car, climbing in. Maurice follows, confusion laced in his features as he slams the door shut behind him. Sam’s breathing heavy as he turns his body, back resting against the cool metal of the door. Maurice faces him, doing the same thing. The chill of the window is comforting, a reminder that this is real.

“I thought you had to go home.” Maurice jokes, a breathless laugh escaping his lips as he closes his eyes. Curiosity burns at him almost instantly and he opens one slightly, just enough to see Sam shift position and lean forwards. He traces along Maurice’s sneaker with his finger, following the divots. He’s transfixed by it. The blond wets his lips and his soft eyes meet Maurice’s again. 

“I… I wanted to do something.” Maurice swallows and sits upright, watching Sam with great interest now. He’s stopped tracing the designs, hands now pushing into the leather of the car. He crawls over to the brunette, a heartbeat away. Sam swallows, shrugging the flannel off and throwing it behind him clumsily. It drapes over the floor, forgotten in half of a second. He’s not touching Maurice yet, just balancing in between Maurice’s legs. His knee brushes against the brunette’s thigh and he leans forward further, lips centimeters away from Maurice’s. The boy holds in the urge to pounce on Sam, so hungry for him that he’d be hit with so many emotions he’d have to let the blond take the reins. It would be an uncontrollable high. And it was just a movement away. The boy in front of Maurice is slow, calculating every movement. Maurice’s hands find their way around Sam’s waist, the boy’s breath hitching. Sam covers Maurice’s mouth with the palm of his hand, pressing his lips together in a thin line. Maurice groans in protest, quieting when the blond shoots him a glare. He’s seated in between the brunette’s legs, causing an awkward pose for Maurice, but he really could care less. 

“It'll be my first kiss.” Sam whispers, removing his hand gently. 

“Mine too.” And with that, Sam looks like he’s gone. His eyes soften to the point where they mimic the sight of melting chocolate, and he’s staring at Maurice with an unconditional love. One that Maurice chased after for so long. One that he spent hours wondering would look like in the murky blue eyes of Sam Pinch. And now that he sees it, he knows it’s worth the wait. Sam’s worth the nights he spent wondering if anyone would ever pop into his life and give it meaning. Sam’s worth the break downs over whether he hurt the boy. Sam’s worth it all. Maurice leans in slightly, lips gently brushing against Sam’s. Sam grips the sleeve of his t-shirt, as if to steady himself. It’s all up to the blond now. Maurice doesn’t move, doesn’t breathe. He _can’t_ move, he _can’t_ breathe.

Sam moves forwards a half a centimeter. But it’s enough. 

Some things are meant to fit together. Like pieces in a puzzle, certain peoples hands, or the right sized book in the final space on a bookshelf. If Maurice thought those things were meant to be, then he didn’t want to know what this would classify as. Their mouths slot together in perfect unison, delicately at first. It’s not as clumsy as the brunette thought it would be. Instead, it fills his chest with a warm feeling, like sunlight on a warm day. And he wants it all to himself. Maurice doesn’t dare push back too roughly with Sam, and lets him get used to the gesture and the sensations. Maurice has already thought about this exact moment so much that it’s almost as if he’s done this a million times before. 

It takes the blond a minute, but once he’s adjusted, a newfound hunger comes over them both and Sam’s on Maurice’s lap, straddling him, and kissing him like his life depends on it. He’s stopped trying to be delicate, like Maurice is something he could break with just a touch. It melts into a greedy kiss, Sam somehow finding the breath to never break it apart. He nibbles on Sam’s bottom lip, smirking into his mouth when the blond reluctantly lets out a small groan. 

When they finally do seperate, Maurice is breathing heavy, the taste of salt from the fries heavy in his mouth. 

“How long did you wait for that?” Sam’s tone is shaky and he looks seconds away from latching onto Maurice again.

“ _Fuck._ A month? A month and a half? Ever since you first walked into the shitty 7-11.” Maurice lets out a breath of air, mimicking a laugh. 

“Holy hell Maur.” The nickname makes his heart skip a beat. “ ‘M sorry about taking so long. It was difficult. I didn’t think you were giving me a chance. I was mesmerized by you.” Sam’s rocking back and forth slowly from nerves, lacing their fingers together. Maurice wets his lips and looks up at Sam, the boy's face illuminated with the low glow of light coming from their left. 

Sam leans in and whispers in Maurice’s ear, words for only the two of them to hear, sending shivers down Maurice’s spine. He’s so gentle with the blond, every touch with fluttering fingers. Sam pulls back, grabbing Maurice’s face in his hands. 

“Kiss me again, you idiot.” Maurice smiles and presses his lips gently against Sam’s cheek, earning a noise of complaint from the blond, who makes a move to extend his legs. They must be cramped, from sitting on them for so long. Maurice grabs his shins, pulling Sam’s body close to his own. Their chests are practically touching now, lips just as close as before. Maurice is smiling like a fool and Sam’s eyes are half shut. He looks like he’s in a dreamy state, his grin just as wide as Maurice’s. Sam moves his arms up to rest on the brunette’s shoulders, hands laced together. He brings his palms to the back of Maurice’s neck, pulling him in. This kiss is less rushed, both of them finally figuring out how to properly slot their lips together without the awkward bump of teeth. Sam tastes heavily of the salt from the fries, something that normally would’ve been unpleasant to Maurice. Now it’s like an unsatisfied craving that he’s trying his hardest to dull. The blond’s hands curl around the loose strands of Maurice’s hair, pulling him impossibly closer.

They pull apart again for half of a second, Sam gasping for air. The sounds Maurice is causing him to make are almost unbearable and Maurice lunges back in, catching the other boy off guard. He makes a squeak, muffled by Maurice’s mouth. The brunette pushes Sam off of him seconds later, panting. The blond scoots back and off of Maurice’s lap, leaving him time to recover. He curls his knees up to his chest, picking at the fabric of his jeans. The only sound in the car is labored breathing, but Maurice is oddly comfortable with it. However, the boy across from Sam can’t think coherent thoughts, the only thing processing the steady beat of his heart. The car isn’t even turned on, it’s freezing inside. But Maurice feels abnormally warm and considers pulling his shirt off. Though, that’d be an awful idea with Sam four feet away. He simply swallows and takes a deep breath in, exhaling just as slowly.

Sam is the first to break the silence, as he usually is. “Can I stay with you tonight? My dad’s going to kill me for sneaking out and… And I really _really_ want to be with you.” Sam’s words shake Maurice to the core, and he’s a little too quick with his response, coming off as needy and desperate, which isn’t entirely incorrect.

“Fuck yes.” Sam crawls over, positioning himself in between Maurice’s legs again, but this time the brunette’s chest is to his back. He lightly grabs one of the boy’s hands, draping it over his shoulder. A silent invitation. Maurice props his arm up, playing with the blond’s hair, his forehead dipping down to rest on the space between Sam’s shoulder and neck. The boy lets out a small giggle and Maurice smiles, knowing Sam can't see it from his position. Instead, the smaller boy tilts his head to lean against the others, quickly brushing his lips against Maurice’s temple. 

“Maur.” Maurice grunts in response, draping an arm around Sam’s waist, pulling him closer. “While I’d love to sit like this forever, I really would, it’s cold and we only have your flannel. Unless you’ve got blankets in this car of yours.” The brunette wets his lips, pulling his head up and plants a dangerous kiss on the space where he just laid. It’s soft, with no intentions for anything other than that. Sam draws in a shaky breath, muttering swears aimlessly. It’s more or less just ‘fuck’ over and over, but he throws in other phrases occasionally. Maurice moves his arm slightly, hooking his fingers on the cool metal of the door handle. He pushes it open. Sam swears louder, suddenly shaking. He lets Maurice help him out, dropping his hand only so they can both climb into their respective seats of the vehicle. Maurice turns to him before shoving the key into ignition.

“The farthest you can go is holding my hand. I’d rather not veer off the road today.” Sam smiles, a mischievous look on his face, and plants a quick kiss on Maurice’s lips. 

“I don’t think I’ll be the one having too much trouble.” 

  
  
  


/ / /

  
  


Sam’s completely right. He traces patterns along Maurice’s knuckles and the boy has to resist the urge to pin the blond to the seat every time they roll to a stop at a red light. Instead, he bites the inside of his cheek so hard he can taste blood. Sam’s fingertips flutter up his arm and to his bicep, the boy wiggling his arm through and hooking it in Maurice’s. He keeps on tracing from there, no exact plan. It’s erratic at times, very clearly just to get under Maurice’s skin. His hand is soft against the rougher one he’s messing with, dragging his fingertips against the top of Maurice’s fingers, just long enough for it to be burned into the boy’s skin, biting his lip. He eventually moves on and presses soft kisses to the brunette’s knuckles, which earns a glare from him. But Maurice doesn’t stop him, and probably couldn’t if he wanted to. It totals to be the longest 50 minutes of Maurice’s short lived life. Sam comments on small things, mostly talking about how pretty Maurice is, mumbling the words into the brunette’s neck, so he can feel his breath. It makes him grit his teeth and squeeze the blond’s hand a little too roughly. 

When they finally get to Maurice’s home, he shoves the car in park. Sam looks up at him expectantly, knowing what’s to come. But Maurice shoves everything he wants to do down into his stomach. His voice is shaky, almost unrecognizable.

“You’ll need to change. I can give you clothing, but it probably won’t fit.”

“ ‘S fine. I’ll just sleep in jeans. Do you have a guest room or-?”

Maurice grunts, grabbing Sam’s hand tighter, his free one rubbing along the boy’s cheekbone. “You won’t sleep in jeans, they’re fucking uncomfortable. I’ll find something. And like I’d put you anywhere but with me.” Sam beams like an idiot in love, and it’s not really that far off. He whispers in Maurice’s ear before sliding out of the car.

“It’s hot when you swear.” 

  
  


Maurice finds Sam waiting for him at the front door, hands hovering over the doorknob. The brunette turns it, ushering him inside, praying he doesn’t wake his mother up. The messages to whatever’s up above work, the woman is nowhere to be seen. The lights on the tree are still on, brightening up the otherwise pitch black room. Sam gets in the house and immediately pulls his jumper over his head to reveal a white t-shirt underneath. He shivers at the new skin exposed to air, despite it being at least 70 degrees in Maurice's living room. The boy kicks off his sneakers, setting them by the door before quietly making his way to the other. Maurice wraps a protective arm around Sam’s waist, pulling him in from the side. His hand inches up the edge of the shirt, touching skin he hasn’t quite seen yet. He still can’t see it, even now. The other boy shivers under his touch.

“God, you’re so pretty.” Maurice mumbles in Sam’s ear, earning a quiet laugh. The blond sighs, detaching himself from the brunette, then walking around the small living room Maurice calls a part of his home. He does a little twirl, spreading his arms out in a dramatic way. He seems so inexplicably happy to be in a room that isn’t a part of his own home, gushing over the small holiday decorations. He tilts a snow globe on its side, making small hip movements as _Rockin’ around the Christmas Tree_ plays. 

As he watches from the doorframe, the weight of the kisses finally hit Maurice, like a rock to the head. The boy who was dancing around his kitchen, lit by only the warm glow of candles and lights from a tree, was just as in love with him as he was. He had spent the same amount of nights lying awake, wondering if the small brush of fingertips had meant anything to the other. He’d spend the same number of hours pacing back and forth, waiting for a call back. He was the same. Almost exactly the same. And Maurice never wanted to let him go. 

Sam looks up at him, gracefully making his way over to the main room. He sits down on the plush couch that Maurice has owned for as long as he can remember. Sam takes his shoes off by the heel, a method he’s told Maurice about before, pressing down with the front of his foot. He looks tired, letting Maurice take his shoes and set them next to the front door. He’s about to go back to Sam immediately, but something catches the boy’s eye. White. Snow flurries outside of the window, falling down in gentle flakes. None of it sticks to the asphalt, despite Maurice really wanting it to. He stands there and stares, almost in awe. He watches the snowfall for what feels like forever, back turned to Sam, who’s stopped making noise since Maurice started staring out the window.

When he finally does get back to the main room of the house, he finds Sam curled up on the couch, head resting on his hands. He’s fast asleep, softly snoring. It hurts Maurice to have to wake up something so peaceful. The blond looks more at ease than he ever has. Maurice inhales and exhales softly, taking gentle steps forwards. Sam doesn’t stir. Maurice kisses his temple lightly. Not a move. He scoops Sam up gently, watching as the blond’s eyelids flutter open finally. Maurice swallows from regret, gently planting a kiss on his forehead. Sam smiles weakly, wrapping his arms around Maurice’s neck in a slow movement. He rests his head on the crook of the boy’s shoulder, softly pressing kisses into his collarbone. His lips have a slight drag to them, from the exhaustion he’s displaying. Though he’d never admit it, it’s driving Maurice mad.

“I think I’m in love with you.” Sam’s words are barely audible, but just loud enough to make out. They hit the brunette like a bus. Maurice comes dangerously close to dropping the boy from a mixture of shock and want. All he can muster the strength to say is,

“I love you too, 7-11 boy.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Whoa this was a roller coaster of a story. I did have fun writing it!!! I spent a total of 18 hours on it, just vibing!!! Thank you for reading


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